


hands on the couch

by PikaCheeka



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blindfolds, Domming from the bottom, Lots of Sex, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PikaCheeka/pseuds/PikaCheeka
Summary: Virus has a new game that sends Trip spiraling into unease and frustration; he can only be told what to do for so long.For Trip's birthday!





	hands on the couch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowgem33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowgem33/gifts).



> I am working on a looooong ViTri fic right now that I had hoped to have done for Trip's birthday (May 3rd). That didn't happen! So here I am with my backup fic. I was asked by Snowgem33 to try to do a fic with Virus sort of topping from the bottom, and I gave it a shot here. I do take requests, as always!

"I said I wanted a quiet night." _A quiet night._ He's been needing them more and more often lately, and they've been starting earlier and earlier. Nights where he stays up, sits and drinks and smokes and stares at nothing. The shadows under his eyes show he hasn't slept in days. 

"I'll be quiet," Trip shrugs. He doesn't know why he's there, doesn't know why he simply goes to bed and leaves him alone. Maybe because he isn't very good at leaving Virus alone and the older man usually never protests.

He glowers at him for a long moment before turning back to the TV. On silent with subtitles. "Whatever."

Trip only risks a glance or two at him; otherwise he watches the TV. Some medical documentary, organs and veins laid bare with a stream of incomprehensible terms parading below it. He stares at the screen the entire time, but his mind isn't there. He doesn't even seem to remember his drink or his cigarette for five, ten minutes at a time, until his fingers burn from the column of ash and he stabs it out in an ashtray beside him without even blinking.

It's some time before he begins moving, straightening up, leaning to the side, moving over a few centimeters at a time until he's pressed up against Trip's side. He remains silent as he does it, and it's a comfortable silence, unlike the tension that existed between them in the first fifteen or twenty minutes.

Trip doesn't think when he moves his arm to drape it over the couch behind Virus, if only to keep it from falling asleep, but he doesn't get a chance.

"Don't touch me."

There is such a venom in his voice, naked and raw, that Trip flinches in surprise. Because Virus never gets mad at him, rarely expresses irritation. _I wasn’t even trying to touch you_. But he can’t say that, can’t reprimand him. “Okay,” he blurts out, “what language are these subtitles in? Doesn’t look familiar.”

Virus narrows his eyes and leans forward, leaving Trip’s torso unexpectedly cold a moment before settling back against him. “Welsh. I just chose the UK option and didn’t read past that. Haven’t even been paying attention.”

 _He’s really gone tonight._ There’s nothing Trip can even say to this. Knowing how distracted the older man unnerves him, because he can either be distracted by whatever has been keeping him up these nights, or distracted by _him_ , by their proximity. And he sits there tensely for some time, unsure of what's happening. The air is thick and heavy between them again. They're close. They've always been close. They touch often, always have, accidental half the time and intentional the other half, but this is a different sort of intent. The unease only increases as time passes.  It's another indeterminate period, eight minutes, ten minutes, before Virus drops the hand he had resting on Trip's chest, lowers it to his crotch. And then he's rubbing him, slowly but insistently, with just enough pressure to excite him. They've never had sex, only jerked one another off now and then when drunk and bored. Never not drunk. They aren’t drunk now.

Trip freezes. This is one of those lines they aren't supposed to cross. "What are you doing?"

Virus doesn't respond, only fingers his belt. "Not good enough."

"For what?"

He sits upright and pulls his cardigan off, grabs the arms and twists it up in one fluid motion. "Do you trust me?"

He opens and closes his mouth once before replying, eyes darting between the sweater in Virus' hands and his unbuckled belt. He isn't sure where this is going but he can hazard a guess. "Yes." _Yes yes yes_ , he trusts him, will always trust him, but he doesn't like this.

"Good." And Virus blindfolds him.

There's a momentary terror. _I will never be blind again._ He remembers his last sight before he'd gone under, the sight he'd feared would be the last thing he'd ever see _. Because it won't work it won't work it won't work. Something will go wrong._ And he'll remain blind. And he'll never see him again, never see Virus, never have any orienting light, never have solid ground beneath his feet. He's hyperventilating before he can stop himself, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

'Shh, shhh, shhh..." the older man purrs, fingers stroking his face. "You're not blind. You're just..." The last word is almost moaned in his ear. "Mine."

As he tries to slow his breathing, he can hear the rustle of fabric. "What are you..." But he knows what he's doing. Stripping. Trip remembers the older man grabbing his crotch only moments ago. Yes, definitely stripping. He wonders who will fuck who, if he can allow Virus to enter him. Because as much as he trusts him, as much as he enjoys his company, he still despises being touched, despises pain of any sort, and he knows sex will hurt. _I can't even let him do that. If he tries, I will stop him._ He's never disobeyed him before.

"Sh." He says again, presses a finger to his lips now and leans in to breathe into his ear again. He's leaning on his chest now. Fingering himself. _He's fingering himself. He's preparing himself. So he won't fuck me after all._ Trip feels an unexpected rush of relief.

The relief evaporates immediately when he suddenly feels the pressure, the sharp burning of friction and chafing. "Oh fuck. Get off, get off, get-"

A hand slapping over his mouth, a voice snarling in his ear. Commanding despite the dick in his ass. "Shut up. Doing this without lube is worse for me."

He knows this is hurting Virus a lot more than it is hurting him, but the burn is unbearable. He squirms beneath him. The heat is good, the tightness and the wet and the muscles contracting around him. Almost as good as a girl. He could get used to it, if he didn't feel like he'd just lost a layer of skin. It’s going to be horrible for the next few days. But it's Virus. _Slow down, slow down_ , he wants to tell him, and his fingers twitch as he moves to grab him.

"Don't. Touch. Me." He snaps again. "Hands on the couch."

Trip sighs. He knows what this is now. Control. He needs to be in complete control. He was always a control freak, but this is too much. He must have had something go wrong recently. There'd been talk about a promotion within the Yakuza, a raise at work with Toue. Maybe something didn't pan out. Maybe he's just pissed and that's all. _We've never fucked before and we shouldn't be doing this but it's not even real sex._

But real sex or not, he's good at what he does, gyrating his hips in between thrusts, lifting Trip's sweatshirt to stroke his chest, rub his dick against his torso. This is something he's done before, probably a hundred times. Something he's done with strangers those nights he invades his closet and steps out at one in the morning, a closet full of sex toys and torture implements and everything in between. Trip knows what he is, knows he does some pretty horrifying things, knows he's in high demand and very expensive. But this is not the sex he has with others.

He's burning up inside, hot and tight. He contracts and constricts around him, so often it's beyond his control despite how much he clearly wants that dominance. Virus is quiet, only letting out a whimper or two, sometimes a gulp or gasp. Trip can't tell if he's enjoying it. He can't tell if he himself is enjoying it, because he has to cling to the back of the couch, dig his fingers into the leather and plant his feet hard against the floor as he struggles not to move, not to touch him. The pain has long since subsided but he can’t touch him. And not being able to see him... _I want this, I want to see you, touch you._ But he says nothing, doesn't dare break Virus' concentration as the older man begins to jerk off, fist bumping against his torso as he drips precome. This torture will be over soon and he isn't sure how he feels about it.

Virus comes with a gasp and a whimper in his ear, and then he's quiet, chest heaving. Quiet, distracted. Trip closes his eyes tightly beneath the blindfold. He has a chance here.

"Nuh uh." Virus slaps his hands away for the third time, purrs sleepily. He sounds pleased. with himself.

"I didn't even..." _Come yet._

"So what? We're done now." Ruthless.

The fury momentarily makes him see red beneath the sweater tied around his eyes _. I could force him. I could throw him down and rape him. I could touch him and take the blindfold off and laugh at him._ But he does nothing, and he doesn't know why. He only sits there, listening to Virus' breathing slow, feeling his body relax. He falls asleep easily after sex, something that Trip had often heard him complain about but rarely witnessed firsthand.

He waits until he's asleep before gently touching him, pushing him off so he can stand, roughly shove his dick back in his pants. He's still hard as he rearranges Virus on the couch, wipes his ass and thighs and belly off with the sweater and draping a blanket over him. He smells the sweater when he's done, inhales it. There's blood mixed with the come. Not enough to be alarming, but enough to make Trip's heartrate pick up. He sighs. This is not what he wants to think about.

But it is what he thinks about as he jerks off in the shower. Fucking him hard, making him bleed and yelp and snarl. Normal sex between two dominant men. Fast and rough, eyes meeting and fingers twining and both of them getting off. This was all a terrible idea and he doesn't understand why Virus did it.

-

They don't speak of it. They just go through their morning routines, eat and dress and go into work. Virus chatters slightly less than he normally does, bumps into things slightly more than he normally does, tired and distracted, but hardly abnormal. He has always had late nights, bad nights, but missing the mug entirely when pouring his coffee is the stuff of hangovers.

It's Sei who brings it up. Cracked, dry lips smiling as he catches Trip's wrist. _You two._

"What?" He can't meet Sei's eyes when he asks for some reason. Maybe because the boy is bedridden, frail and barred from sex by his own body. Maybe because he's embarrassed over how obvious it is.

"Virus. He's smug today."

Trip risks a glance over at the older man, fiddling with his Coil on the other side of the room. Smug. It's the perfect word for how he looks right now. Self-satisfied. It's difficult to look at him without remembering how tight his ass is, how he'd been nearly twenty centimeters deep in him only twelve hours ago.

Sei cracks a rare smile. "Did you do it?"

Is it really so obvious, not only that they fucked but that they'd been on the edge for so long? "Yea I guess."

"You guess?" He laughs weakly. "You two."

Trip shrugs, unsure of what to say. Virus is yawning now, stretching lazily and revealing a missing cufflink. Smug but sloppy. He'd been distracted all morning, pleasant and sated but somehow absent. Trip had been uncertain if it was intentional or not, a careful avoidance, as if he wanted to ensure that Trip wouldn't bring up what had happened. Not that he would have. He isn't even clear what happened.

-

Whatever happened, it happens again a week later, the night after Trip can finally bring himself to mention it over dinner one evening.

"Why did you do that anyway?"

Virus knows exactly what he's referring to, stares him right in the eyes before shrugging. "I wanted to have sex. You were there."

 _No shit._ "Why couldn't I touch you?"

"You're too handsy. It's annoying." He stabs at one of the takeout boxes with chopsticks and misses, cheap wood scraping the glass table.

"Annoying? That was the most annoying sex I've ever had. It sucked."

"Thanks."

"Come on... it was weird."

"I meant it."

He never shows gratitude and Trip doesn't want him to start now. “Whatever.”

Virus grins as he waves his hand, dismissing him, a passive appreciation for dropping the matter, and they fuck again that night.

The second time he pushes him to the floor, watches porn over Trip's shoulder, commenting on it from time to time but silencing the younger man whenever he tries to ask about it. The third time he shoves a small vibrator inside of himself and clutches the remote, revs it up far too high until even Trip orgasms from it. The fourth time he nearly rips his earring out with his teeth, whispers a few words of filth in his ear just before he climaxes. The fifth time he pops a few pills and he laughs hysterically until he breaks off in what Trip suspects, fears, is a sob and he buries his face in the younger man's neck.

And Trip grows increasingly confused and uneasy, Virus’ erratic behavior leading him to wonder if there’s more to this. _I wanted sex_ isn't enough of an explanation. He could go to anyone for that. Something changed. Something had to have happened to him, or he remembered something. _The quiet nights._ It's enough to make Trip actually talk to someone about it, a thing he rarely ever does.

-

"So you really fucked him?"

If that's what it is. He's getting sick of this conversation, even though he isn't sure he ever even had it with anyone but himself, but he initiated it with her. She'd be relentless if he stopped now, so he has no choice but to go on. "I wet my dick in him, yea. Five times now."

"That's an interesting way to put it." She smirks. "After like ten years of obsessing over him you finally bang and that's all you can say?"

He thinks about telling her how he thinks about the sex almost every second now, how he can't look at Virus now without hearing him whimper, thinking of being inside of him, how last week when they'd gone to a hot spring together Trip could only stare at his pale thighs, his pink nipples, his tight ass _. I fucked that but I can't touch it._ "He makes me just sit there. Tells me not to move or touch him and he even blindfolds me so I can't look at him," he finds himself ranting once he gets going, more words spilling from his mouth than have done so in the last month. "I'm like a sex doll to him. I can't enjoy it. I don't even get off half the time."

"So just grab him and rape him." She says it as if she's thought about it a thousand times, and Trip knows she has. Her perverse sex fantasies are part of what's so appealing. He's never fucked her exactly because of this, just buried his face in her tits while she played video games or read manga with her arms around him. The few times he’d tried, she’d started asking him about Virus before they can get going and he had to stop. Sometimes he calls her mum even though she's only two years older than him.

"He says no."

"Why do you always do what he says?"

"Dunno. I just always have." Ever since they were children. He never expected it to go in this direction. "He's not usually that bossy though, asks my advice a lot. This is weird even for him."

She shakes the empty beer can and tosses it over her shoulder as she picks up the game controller again. It’s always been obvious to Trip why she’s single. "I bet he does that because he was raped."

"He's a huge slut. He charges extra for freaky kinky shit so I'm sure it's gone bad a few times. Ain't a big deal. He's not a baby about that stuff."

"Not like that. Something really bad. Ever hear of repressed memories? He wants to have control again. That's what happens, or they become rapists, but I think you'd both do that anyway. Even if you had a perfect life." She knows and isn't fazed by it, can scarcely mask the delight in her voice.

Trip doesn't answer. He knows it's Likely. Plausible. _True_. _It's not like you haven't thought of that before._ He remembers how pretty Virus was as a child, how much of a control freak he’s always been. "You should stop watching those weirdo crime shows."

She shrugs. "You said you knew him since you were little, right? Back at the...orphanage?"

One of his old lies. She'd only believed it for so long but he can't be bothered to tell her the truth, or at the very least come up with a better lie. There are no real orphanages on Midorijima, just a church that doesn't bother with difficult kids. "Yea. Were six and twelve."

"Was he a kinky little freak then?"

Trip only stares. _How could I even recognize that at six?_

"Did he ever mention his dad?"

"Nope. Dunno if he ever even knew his dad. Or mum." He'd wondered about Virus' mother a lot, wondered if she was as attractive as him, if he got his delicate features from her, if she was Trip's type, if he would fuck her if he met her. He likes mothers.

"So you know nothing of his past before you guys met."

"Not really. Never asked. We don't bug each other about stuff like that."

"Huh. Was there any guy who worked there who spent a lot of time with him? Or another kid who bothered him?"

Trip bolts upright. He remembers a hand on Virus' back in long white hallways, the blank look in the older boy's eyes whenever he returned. He remembers but doesn't want to think about it. "Nope. Forget it."

"Fine." She sighs, blows her bangs out of her face. They're getting too long. "Can't believe you guys fucked and you won't give me the details."

"Do you do anything but watch gay porn and criminal crap?"

"Not really. Hey, try to make a video next time. I need something to sell with my new book."

-

He holds out a blindfold. They've graduated from cardigans and belts to real blindfolds, real drugs, real toys. They've fucked another three times since that idea has been planted in his head, the idea that this is all about control because at some point in his life, Virus was denied the very thing. And every time has been the same. Blindfolds and a demand that Trip not touch him. He’s changed his position a couple of times, sat facing forward in his lap twice, but it’s similar _enough_ to frustrate and infuriate.

Trip arches an eyebrow but makes no effort to take it from him. He feels the heat in his groin, is aware of his dick hardening at just the thought. He's so hot inside, so tight. But he doesn't like this, doesn't like where this has gone, and he doesn't like the insinuations that have taken root in his mind. _I don't want to know this much about you._

"What's the big deal? You like sex." He waves it absently, his face blank. Unreadable. He's good at that.

"This is weird sex."

"Don't you like weird sex?"

"I like weird sex but this is kinda..." _Bad. Awkward. We shouldn't have this between us now._ He wishes they'd never fucked but there's no going back now and no point in saying it. Regret is not something either of them understand, so he shrugs. "I don't like this."

"You don't like fucking me?"

He says it so bluntly, crudely, that Trip feels his arousal build. _We shouldn't be doing this._ He'd fantasized about it a thousand times but he knows this is going too far. "Not really." Because he doesn't know if he does.

Virus stares at him, his expression imperceptible. "Why not?"

"I don't want...." _To know this much about you. What your weird fetishes mean. What happened to you. Why you're like this. I don't want to know how damaged you are._

"I do want. We're going to do it anyway so just answer me."

It comes out in a rush. A diversion. Anything. "It's hard not to grab you. I like being active. We did it your way eight times in a row. We gotta do it even."

There is finally a shift in his expression as he hesitates. "What do you want?"

"Either no blindfold or I get to touch you."

He looks at the blindfold for a long moment before replying. "Fine."

"Fine what?"

"You can touch me. But the blindfold stays, so don't touch yourself."

"You're nuts." He shakes his head, but he's intrigued. There's something wrong here, something very wrong with Virus. He figured it would be the blindfold. Because allowing the touch is a sacrifice as control, and he had assumed this was about control. Assumed it was about something that happened to him that he needs to remedy.

But as confused as he is, he takes advantage of it. Virus still rides him, forces him back and sits on his dick. Trip touches him all over, slides his hands over every inch of his skin and squeezes, pinches and rubs and digs his nails in. His skin is soft but for the scars on his back, on his neck, up his pretty spine.

"Don't do that. Stop."

"You said I can touch." Finally, _finally_. He can't stop touching now. And he brushes his thumb up the inside of Virus' thigh, bringing a startled whimper from him. So sensitive. Maybe that's why he doesn't like to be touched, because he's too sensitive, every area of his body a bundle of nerves. Trip isn't expecting this, and the older man's noises excite him in a way they never have before. The lack of, or more like the inability of, sight, arouses him still further. It heightens his other senses, makes every trace of fingers across the older man's skin more hot than he can believe. The sex is better this time, rougher and more exhausting, longer and more satisfying.

The first kiss is an accident, leaning their foreheads against one another in exhaustion, breathing in one anothers' air until their lips touch. They hesitate then, bumping noses and chins for a moment until their lips connect again. It grows heated almost immediately, both of then opening up at the same time and gasping, moaning, within seconds. They kiss hard, yet slow, reveling in the exploration of one another. Touch each other's faces, card fingers through hair and stroke throats and cheeks and gently bite lips.

Virus orgasms in the midst of it, breaking the kiss as he arches his back, convulses and claws at the sheets and gives a soft cry only to have Trip grab the sides of his face, pull him back down and continue the kiss as he rolls his hips up a few more times until he feels the climax take over him. It's hard to keep it going in the post-coital haze, but they don't stop for another few minutes. Once Virus fingers the blindfold, slides his thumb beneath the fabric and strokes Trip's eyelid, but he doesn't take it off. They're silent when it's over, and they fall asleep together in Trip's bed.

He wakes up at one point and rips the blindfold off. 5:26 am, only a few minutes before he's normally up. He's too tired to get up and stay up, unexpectedly drained despite them only going through one round of sex, and so he rolls over to face the wall and drifts off again.

They kiss again upon waking up, Virus scarcely awake and yet to even open his eyes, a slow affair that leaves Trip between his legs and them both gasping for air. He's on top of him for the first time when the older man finally snaps his eyes open.

"You took your blindfold off." He sounds accusing.

"You really expect me to sleep with it?" But Virus has a point as Trip looks away after only a second of meeting his gaze. Without a blindfold it's too much. He'd wanted it off for so long but now he wants nothing more than to put it back on. It’s far more intimate than touching him.

"We can fuck like this next time but the blindfold stays." He's warm beneath him, breathing heavily. Trip focuses on his mouth, his swollen lips, and thinks about biting them.

"What's with it anyway?"

"I wanted you blind, too."

"You're not blind...just need glasses." But even as he says it, he remembers. He remembers how often Virus has walked into things recently, how often he's been squinting, how he's been using his hands more than usual when navigating familiar spaces. His vision has always been garbage, but it's been worse than usual.

“It’s getting worse, and the headaches have been awful.” _The quiet nights._

"You can get new eyes, yea? You've done it before." Because he has. He’s already had two more transplants since the initial one at thirteen. Three transplants. Four pairs of eyes. This would be his fifth. He only recently turned thirty. The statistics are working against him, and Virus only confirms Trip’s suspicions as he continues.

"The optic nerves can only handle so many transplants. Mine are already not doing well. Last time I had it done, the doctor told me I only had a couple more."

"Then what?"

He shrugs beneath him, still beneath him. "Maybe there will be a cure by then. Or I'll deal with it." He's remarkably nonchalant about it, because he can adapt to anything. Blindness terrifies Trip, the mere thought of it making him sick with fear. He doesn't deal well with change, doesn't cope well with anything, really, but Virus can face blindness unflinchingly. Or he's just good at hiding things. But then he goes on. "I just wanted you to have to be blind now and then, too."

He finally meets his eyes again, forces himself to examine them. _I won’t be looking at these ones for much longer._ "So why the sex?"

"I answered that one already. I just wanted sex the first time and it ended up being fun so I did it again. You’re big."

He decides to ignore the fact that his size was apparently unexpected. "That's really it?

"Of course that's it. What did you think?"

"Dunno. You had trauma or something."

"Are you stupid?" It’s not an answer but it’s enough. Something flashes in his eyes. Irritation. Disgust. The closest to rage Virus ever gets with him as he suddenly struggles to sit up, pushes Trip off of him. “I made an appointment for the surgery. After this one I probably have one left before the nerves can’t take any more. Or maybe this is it. Maybe this one won’t work. So I wanted to do it with you before you left.”

"Why would I leave?”

“If I’m blind? It would be inconvenient for you. I might not be of use to Toue anymore, might have to find new work within the Yakuza. I’d have to relearn a lot of things. You’re only here because it’s convenient, right?”

“Uhm. I wouldn’t leave ‘cause of that. I’ll only leave when you want me to.” He doesn’t add that something about Virus being blind arouses him. Yes, it would be irritating to adjust to, and the older man would likely be a real bitch about it, but he’d also be _vulnerable_. He remembers Virus bumping into counters, misjudging distances when grabbing or pouring things, remembers the soft noises he makes during sex. Vulnerable and dependent on him. He wonders how Virus would handle it if he were alone, how he thinks he can handle it without him. And he wonders how much he himself would help him, or if he’d just take advantage of the situation and fuck him senseless at every chance he got. Because now that they’ve started, they might as well keep going, as awkward as it is. It’d be stranger to stop. “Were you really worried about that?”

“Not worried. But I’ve been curious about how you are in bed and I thought my chances were running out.” Precise and clinical and unapologetic. The Virus he knows best.

“Ah. Nope.”

“All of this was unnecessary then.” He’d found the blindfold, half buried under the pillows, and is fingering it now, wrapping it around his knuckles.

“Guess so.”

“Huh.” And he’s tying the cloth over Trip’s eyes again.


End file.
